I Never Meant you Harm
by Lynn Harp
Summary: While on a hunt Sam gets hurt. Can Dean keep from blaming himself.
1. Prologue

I Never Meant You Harm - Prologue

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Dean hated hospitals. He hated everything about them. The smells, the noises, the sick people, and the doctors. The doctors were the worst. The doctors asked questions. Questions, that Dean could live without answering. Questions, that Dean didn't want to answer. Dean would love all to well, to just tell the doctors to mind their own damn business. Dean hated hospitals.

Dean sat slouched in a hard green plastic waiting room chair. Dean sat waiting. On the list of things Dean hated, waiting was number one, and hospitals number two. Dean wasn't a patient person. As he sat against the hard chair, Dean longed to stand up, or move. Anything but sitting and waiting. He wanted desperately to just jump up, and demand someone tell him something. Dean wanted to demand some kind of action from the doctors.

The crowded waiting room kept him seated. Causing a scene wouldn't help matters. It would only cause more problems, bigger problems. Dean had already done enough already to make matters worse. He didn't need to add fuel to the already blazing fire.

Dean was trying to wait patiently. Dean was trying to not glare. Dean was trying to keep his leg from jerking. Dean was trying not to clench his fists. Dean was trying.

"Winchester!" A nurse yelled out over the noisy waiting room. The sound causing Dean to jump up immediately.

"Yes," Dean answered, as he approached the nurse.

"Winchester?" The nurse asked for confirmation.

"I'm his brother," Dean offered.

"Follow me then," the nurse turned, and led Dean down a long hallway.

The hallway seemed to go on for miles. Door after door passed by, until it felt like one of those cartoon chases, where the background keeps repeating. Dean followed the plump nurse until she stopped outside one of the doors.

"In here," she motioned, as she opened the door. "The doctor will be with you in a moment."

Dean entered the room, and heard the door close behind him. Inside was an office. The plate on the desk showed that it belonged to a Dr. Willard. Other then the desk, the only other furniture was a chair on one side of the desk, and two hard plastic chairs on the other. Dean sat down in one of the hard chairs. Slouching down, he prepared himself for more waiting. A moment in doctors terms could be anywhere from twenty minutes to two hours. Drumming his fingers on the arm rest, Dean almost gave into the urge to start pacing the room.

Just when Dean felt like he was ready to lose his mind a doctor entered the office, causing him to jump up from the chair. The man seemed to be in his forties, a rather tall man, his hair starting to grey, and a pair of round glasses perched on his nose.

"Mr. Winchester," the doctor asked.

"Yes, I'm Dean," the man spoke, as he shook the offered hand.

"Please have a seat," Dr. Willard motioned.

Dean sat down once more against the chair, fighting the urge not to slouch this time. The doctor also took a seat, and began thumbing through a folder. Dean caught a glance of the name Winchester. This continued for several minutes, the doctor looking at the papers, and Dean fighting not to strangle the man.

"Please," Dean finally barked. "Tell me, how is my brother? How is Sammy?"

The doctor took off his glasses, and fixed Dean with a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry Dean, but I have some bad news concerning your brother."

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	2. Chapter One

I Never Meant You Harm - Chapter One

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_Spencer, N.C._

"Come on Jacob, let's go!" A young girl of thirteen urged bouncing on the balls of her feet, as she pulled at the sleeve of her friend Jacob's shirt.

Jacob looked hesitantly between the girl, and the old Porter's house behind her. "You sure about this Casey?"

The house behind them was an old two story one, and had been abandoned. No one had lived in it for years.

Casey stopped tugging, and placed her hands on her hips. "Jacob," She huffed. "Today is your thirteenth birthday, and it is tradition."

Jacob crossed his arms, and glared harshly at Casey. "Okay," Casey said flinging her arms up in defeat. "It isn't an actual tradition, yet, but you still have to do it." A wide grin spread across her face, as she peered behind him.

"I don't have to do anything," Jacob started, but was cut off as hands grabbed at him from behind.

"Yes you do," Mike said into Jacob's ear.

"Yup," Mark, Mike's twin, added.

The two boys, both friends, pulled a struggling Jacob up to the front steps of the house keeping firm grips on his arms. It was past midnight, and the moon was high in the sky casting unearthly shadows across the dirty windows of the old house.

"Come on guys," Jacob pleaded. "I really don't think this is a good idea."

"You never think it's a good idea," Casey answered. "You are such a dweeb sometimes Jacob."

"A dweeb," Mark chimed. "A big dweeb," Mike added.

"Okay," Jacob shouted, pulling free from his friends. "I'll do it."

"Yes!"

"Alright!"

"Awesome!"

"How long do I have to stay inside?" Jacob asked.

"One hour," Casey said, holding up her middle finger.

"Oh that is so mature Casey," Jacob grounded. "One hour, and that's it." He asked.

"That's it," supplied Mike and Mark at the same time.

"Alright," Jacob said turning to his friends. "I guess I'll see you in an hour." With that Jacob turned, climbed the stairs, and walked inside. The door slammed shut behind him.

-----

"Hey Sam," Dean yelled through the wood. "Did you fall in?"

The bathroom door opened to reveal a disgruntled Sam. "What the hell," Sam asked.

"You've been in there for over twenty minutes," Dean answered. "I just thought you might have fell in or something." Dean gave Sam his best 'I love messing with you', grin.

Sam rolled his eyes, and pushed past Dean. Sitting down at the small wobbly table, he picked up the paper scanning the articles. Dean shrugged his shoulders, and entered the now unoccupied bathroom.

"So, what did you find?" Sam asked.

"Look on the third page, just below the dog food ad." Came Deans reply from the bathroom.

Sam flipped to said page, and began reading the article.

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FOUR KIDS CLAIM HOUSE IS HAUNTED

Yesterday, at around midnight, four kids were found yelling in the middle of Carter Street. The police officer who found them, as he was making his rounds, said the children were 'jumping, yelling, and pointing at an old abandoned house'.

The children, who identities will be protected, claimed to have been witness to a ghost. The old abandoned house, usually referred to as 'the old Porter's house', was the scene of the disturbance.

The police officer stated none of the children were hurt, and dismissed it as a prank...

-----

As Dean exited the bathroom, Sam had finished reading the article. "So," Sam started. "A ghost?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "The paper doesn't give many details. Worth checking out though."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, as he folded the paper. "So, Spencer then?"

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"Just admit it Dean," Sam pleaded with his brother.

"I will not admit it, because it isn't true," Dean spat back.

Sam folded his arms against his chest, and leaned back against the seat of the impala. Arguing with his brother at this point would be, well pointless.

"Hey Sam," Dean said, breaking Sam from his thoughts.

"Yeah Dean."

"I think we're lost."

-----

"Is this the right place," Dean asked Sam, as they pulled in front of a yellow two story house.

The house sat away from the road, and had a white fence in need of repair. The large yard was littered with bikes, toys, and a water hose.

"Yeah this is the house," Sam answered looking at the napkin, and then at the address printed on the mailbox. "Do you need directions to the front door," Sam quipped, trying desperately to keep from laughing.

"Shut up dude," Dean grounded out. It wasn't his fault he didn't see the large sign saying welcome to Spencer, and the gas station attendant didn't have to laugh in his face either. Of course the bloody nose he gave the obnoxious teen was worth the embarrassment.

"Come on Dean," Sam broke into his thoughts. "Let's not stand here like idiots.

Dean and Sam made their way through the obstacle of toys and bikes, finally reaching the green painted door. Sam rang the doorbell, as Dean straightened his jacket.

The door opened to a young boy, with blond hair. "Can I help you," he asked, as he eyed the two suspiciously.

"Hi," Sam spoke up first. "My name's Sam, and this is my brother Dean. We're looking for either Mike or Mark Owens."

"Why," the boy asked rudely.

"We're doing research," Dean said taking the lead. "We heard about a supposed haunted house near here."

"What do you want to know about the old Porter's house for," this time the boy looked intrigues, and curious at the mention of the house.

"My brother and I are writing a book on haunted houses," Sam supplied.

"That's right, and we heard that Mark or Mike might know something about the old Porter's house." Dean gave the kid on of his best 'you can trust me' grin.

"Mark," the boy yelled over his shoulder into the house. "I'm Mike," the boy said turning back to face the brothers. "Mark's my brother."

"What do you want," Mark Owen's said as he approached the three.

It was then Mark eyed the two strangers. Dean and Sam stared at the identical boys.

"We're twins," Mike supplied.

"I think they can see that," Mark said to his brother.

"Who are you and what the hell do you want," Mark questioned.

"They want to know about how the old Porter's house is haunted," Mike answered for them. "Their writing a book on haunted houses."

Sam and Dean watched, as the same curious and intrigued look crossed across Mark's face at the mention of the house.

Mark looked at Mike, and the two stared at each other. It looked as if they were talking with their eyes. Finally Mark turned back to Dean and Sam, "Okay, what do you want to know?"

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	3. Chapter Two

I Never Meant You Harm - Chapter Two

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Sam and Dean stood in front of the twins, as the two boys lounged on the porch steps. Mike sat more tense, while his brother Mark tried to look intimidating as he glared at Sam and Dean.

"Okay," Sam spoke, pulling a pencil and paper from a pocket of his jacket. "Let's start with what you know about the house. 'The Old Porter's House', that's what it is referred as?"

"Yeah," Mark answered, watching closely as Sam wrote on the little pad. "I don't know why it's called that, probably the people who used to live there."

"So, it's the Porter's who haunt it then?" Dean asked eyeing the boy.

"No," Mike supplied. "It's supposed to be haunted by someone named McKenzie."

"McKenzie, not Porter?" Sam asked with bewilderment.

"That's what my brother said," Mark spoke defensively.

"Easy now," Dean said raising a hand. "We're just trying to get all the facts." Dean ran a hand through his hair with agitation. This was getting them no where.

"Okay," Sam continued. "Why does this McKenzie haunt the place?"

"Well, here is the story I heard..."

-----

Jenny McKenzie was thirteen years old today. She had been getting ready for her party in her room when her mother called from downstairs.

"Jenny!"

"Yes mom," Jenny called back down, as she hung her head out the door.

"Come downstairs!" Her mother yelled back. "I need you to do something for me!"

Jenny gave a huff of exasperation, as she trudged downstairs to the kitchen. In the kitchen her mother was finishing up her birthday cake. A chocolate cake with white frosting.

"Oh," Jenny exclaimed. "It's beautiful mom," Jenny said, as she wrapped her arms around her mother.

"I'm glad you like it honey," Jenny's mother answered. "Can you do me a favor before you get ready?"

"Sure."

"I need you to go downstairs in the basement, and bring up those two extra folding chairs. We need a couple more places for your guests to sit." Her mother smiled down at her.

"Sure thing," Jenny replied. "Be right back."

In the front hall was the door to the basement. Taking a flashlight from the front hall table, as the basement's light was broken, Jenny made her way down the narrow wooden steps.

The McKenzie family had just moved into the house several months back. Since moving in, they had yet to really do anything with basement. Down in the basement were things that they had not found a place for.

The stairs creaked under Jenny's weight, as she ventured further down them. Her flashlight cast eerie shadows on the walls with each sweep it made.

Jenny wasn't normally someone who easily scared, but in the case of the basement she was terrified by it's darkness. To Jenny it felt as if someone was lurking in the depths waiting. Waiting for what, Jenny didn't know.

Finally at the bottom, Jenny began her search of the folding chair. Pushing aside boxes, and cobwebs she looked all around. She stopped suddenly, when a noise from behind her rose from the silence.

"Who's there?" Jenny asked. No one answered.

Jenny went back to her search, and once again heard the noise. "Max," She said. "Is that you Max. Cause if your trying to scare me it isn't going to work." Jenny swung the beam of her flashlight around the area where the noise had come from. Hoping for her brother Max to jump from the shadows, and yell "gotcha". No one did.

Upstairs her mother had found the folding chair leaning against the back door. She went to the top of the basement stairs to yell down, and tell Jenny about the chair. The only thing that escaped her lips were screams, as by the light of the hall she saw Jenny at the bottom of the stairs. Jenny was sprawled across the two bottom slats, dark red blood stained her face. Jenny McKenzie was dead.

-----

"So what killed the girl," Dean asked, as Mike and Mark finished their story.

"They say it was some killer who snuck in through the basement window," Mike said.

Dean looked at Sam with disbelief written all over his face. Sam looked away, and cleared his throat, "So, what happened the other night while you were at the Porter's House?"

"It was Jacob's birthday," Mike said. "It's like a tradition."

"A tradition," Dean asked, urging the kid to go on.

"Yeah, some kids started a long time ago. On your thirteenth birthday you have to go in at eleven, and you can't come out until midnight."

"Jacob came running out screaming, said he heard noises coming from the basement," Mark added.

Sam put his notepad back in his pocket. "Thank you,"

"Yeah," Dean added in. "Thanks, if we need anything else we'll let you know."

"Whatever," Mark said, as the twins watched the two brothers walk back to their car.

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"So, what do you think," Dean asked.

"Might be nothing, or it might be something," Sam answered, as he flopped down on the bed in the motel room they just obtained.

"I think it's a load of nothing. Just a bunch of kids getting scared over nothing, and wanting attention for it." Was Dean's answer back.

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"KID FOUND DEAD," Sam read from the paper the next morning, as Dean emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp.

"What," Dean asked.

Sam handed over the paper for Dean to read.

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KID FOUND DEAD

Early this morning, around one o-clock, the body of a thirteen year old girl was found inside 'The Old Porter's House'. Two other children had dared the young girl to go inside the house, and stay for an hour. When the hour was up, and the girl didn't come out, the two children ran for help. They stopped a police car. The officer went inside, and found the girl in the basement. Cause of death is suspected to be from falling down the stairs...

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The article went on with several other details, but didn't mention the kids names. "Damn," was Dean's response.

"What do you want to do?"

Dean ran his hand through his hair in thought. "I say we go find out who these kids are."

-----

Dean thrummed his hand against the steering wheel in time to the music blaring from the radio. Several people walking along the sidewalk turned their heads in annoyance. Dean simple glared at them. Soon Dean could see Sam emerge from the police station with several papers in his hand. As Sam climbed inside, Dean turned down the volume, and waited.

"So," Dean prompted.

"Piece of cake," Sam answered, his voice flat and empty of any emotion.

"What is it," Dean asked with concern, though he kept it well hidden.

Sam flipped through the papers until he cam across the one he was looking for. "Victim, Casey Jacobs. Cause of death, broken neck; from falling down stairs. Reported By, Mike and Mark Owens." Sam gave Dean a meaningful look.

"Well fuck."

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	4. Chapter Three

I Never Meant You Harm - Chapter Three

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Once again, Dean and Sam found themselves staring at the front of the twins house. This time was a bit different. The yard was still littered with toys, but the front curb now housed a police car. Including its very own police officer.

"So how do we get in to talk to them," Sam asked.

"Give me a second," was Dean's reply, as he tried to work the problem out in his head.

After several minutes... "You got nothing," Sam stated.

"I got nothing," Dean confirmed, knocking his head against the steering wheel.

Sam sighed, as he eyed the police car. "Wait," Sam exclaimed, causing Dean to hit the car horn.

"Dude, what the...," Dean started, but was cut off by Sam.

"Listen, I have an idea..."

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"Stupid ass little brothers," Dean was mumbling under his breath several minutes later, as he stealthily made his way to the back of the police cruiser. "Damn puppy look."

"Excuse me," Sam's voice carried from the front of the police cruiser. "Could you help me find 234 Lakeside Avenue?" Sam held out a map for the man to see.

The police officer looked up at Sam from his paper work. He slowly eyed the giant young man before him. "Sure, let me see." The man, Officer Jarrett, took the offered map.

Seeing that Officer Jarrett was thoroughly engrossed in the map, Sam gave Dean a nod and motioned with his hand. Dean nodded back, that he understood, and continued along the passenger side in a crouch.

"Aha," Officer Jarrett exclaimed loudly. Causing Dean stop dead in his tracks. "Right here," He continued, as he pointed to a place on the map. "You see, you go down this street for three blocks, then take a right. You go for another three blocks, and it brings you to Lakeside Avenue."

Sam sputtered for words, as he listened to the directions. "Um..." Sam started.

Dean was mentally cursing his brother on the other side of the vehicle. "Damn it Sam. Come on. Hurry up and pull something out of your ass."

"Um.." Sam tried again. "Shit," Sam cursed.

Officer Jarrett started at the loud tone. "What?" He asked dumbly.

Sam's hand came up to his right temple, and began massaging the area with vigor. "My head," Sam gasped, as his legs gave out, sending his knees smashing into the hard black pavement. "Shit," He cursed.

Officer Jarrett was out of his car, and kneeling beside Sam in seconds. "What's wrong? Do you need me to call n ambulance?"

"My head," Sam gasped. "It hurts."

"Sam!" It was Dean.

Sam peered up, and turned his head just in time to see Dean running towards him. "Sammy," Dean said once he had reached him. "What's going on?" Panic and fear poured out of Dean's words, as he copied the officer in kneeling beside his brother. "Sammy, where does it hurt."

"My head," Sam groaned.

"Do you know this man," Officer Jarrett asked.

"Yes, he's my brother. What happened," Dean asked, as he placed his arm protectively over Sam's shoulders.

"He was asking me for directions, then he fell to his knees. He said his head was hurting. Do you need me to call an ambulance," Officer Jarrett asked again.

"No," Sam answered. "It's just a spell."

"Yeah," Dean continued for his brother. "He has these spells sometimes, but it will pass. Come on," Dean directed at Sam, as he began pulling his brother to his feet. "Let's get you some place more comfortable. Thank you officer," Dean said, as he and Sam made their way back to the impala. Sam still clutching at his head, leaned into his brother.

Officer Jarrett watched the two, and overlooked the fact, that as they passed the trunk of his car, Dean jarred it roughly with his hip.

-----

Dean stayed silent until safely away from hearing distance. "Sam," he spoke. "Is it a vision?"

"No," Sam said, his voice spilling with unshed laughter. "Sorry if I..." Sam trailed off more seriously.

"Naw, it's cool..." Dean stared, but was interrupted by a shout from Officer Jarrett.

Turning around, the two brothers watched, as Officer Jarrett began chasing his car down the steep incline. The two burst out laughing as the car continued, picking up speed, until smashing into a tree far from the home of Mark and Mike Owens.

"Come on," Dean said. "Let's go."

-----

Dean knocked on the door, while Sam kept a look out for any more Officers of the law. They only had to wait several minutes for someone to answer the door. Mark Owens answered the door.

"What the hell do you want," Mark asked angrily.

"Look kid we got to talk," Dean answered.

"No," Mark barked before shoving the door close.

Dean expertly placed his foot between the door, stopping it from shutting. "Kid I haven't got time for this so listen carefully," Dean began, as he held the door open in front of a stunned Mark. "My brother and me, were not writers."

"Then what are you," Mark asked, shaking out of his shock.

"What we are doesn't matter. What does matter is helping stop the thing that killed your friend." Mark dropped his head at the mention of Casey.

"Look," Sam spoke up. "We can stand here all day trying to convince you, but it won't help matters."

"You should talk to Jacob." Mark's reply was emotionless, and straight to the point. "He's been in the house before." With that, Mark shut the door on Sam and Dean.

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End file.
